The chime above the bookshop door dinged when Reid pushed it open. The November weather had taken a sudden turn for the colder, so it was just chilly enough that his breath came out in little visible clouds and the metal of the door handle stuck slightly to his hand when he grabbed it. Walking over the threshold, he was enveloped in a cloud of warmth and the a whiff of incense mingling with the smell of old books. The shop owner, an older woman known as Sophia who also offered psychic and tarot card readings and always seemed to know more than she let on, barely looked up from her book.
"Welcome back, Spencer. Congratulations on catching your criminal." Her voice was low and ethereal, something you'd expect to hear coming from some ageless deity in a movie. Their latest case had been only a few hours drive away, and fairly well covered by the media, so it was technically possible for her to have followed the case that way, but Reid had never actually seen her in the presence of any technology older than the hot plate in the back of the store that looked like it had been salvaged from an ex-Boy Scout's attic. So while she might have heard it on the news, or read about it online, Reid would not be surprised if it was something she just knew.
"Thanks," He replied, "Anything new?"
She hummed, "Nothing you haven't read before, though someone stopped by and bought all of our books on French Philosophy."
"Really?" Reid thumbed through a stack of volumes on Birds of North and South America.
"Every one. It's far from the most popular section, but now at least I have an excuse to lurk at more auction houses." Sophia looked up from her book to smile at Reid, "Or at least more than I already do."
Reid shook his head with a laugh, the bookstore-owner-and-possible-prophetess was known for her love-hate relationship with auction houses. It was considered to be good fortune for any auctions held in the area for Sophia to bless the establishment with her presence (though that good fortune seemed to come with a caveat, as few auctioneers eked by without her discovering something they had mislabeled, or assigned the wrong date to, which was inevitably followed by a grandmotherly scolding of the importance of proper research and attribution). "Well if you see any, be sure to pick up some of de Beauvoir's work."
Sophia made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh (though by the twist of her lips, Reid was willing to bet it was the latter), "When would I not?"
"You speak the truth, Sophia." The half-dragon smiled when he found a shelf of folklore, pulling one down carefully and sitting down on a nearby couch to look through it. He had discovered Sophia's bookstore -The Pillars of Wisdom- only a few days after moving to the area. For his whole life he had been surrounded by books; from his mother's hoard, to the local library, to the ever growing shelves of textbooks he had accumulated from classes required to earn his various degrees. So as soon as he had moved into his apartment, he realized it felt empty- he needed books.
After a little bit of digging (okay, he asked a few people at the coffee shop down the road from the apartment), he happened upon The Pillars of Wisdom, which was tucked between an investment agency and an organic grocery co-op. The only visible sign it existed from the street was a dark purple door and an arrow with the ever descriptive label of "Wisdom" pointing into an ascending staircase.
It had been raining enough that Reid was thoroughly damp but when he walked through the door to see the shelves of books stretching up to the ceiling, he knew he had found what he was looking for. Reid prided himself on sharp senses, and yet he didn't notice Sophia until she was standing two feet away. The older lady had immediately assessed his cold, damp self, and insisted he sit on the couch while she made some tea and grabbed her tarot deck.
Thus a pattern was established in Reid's early days of working at the BAU; after he returned from a case, or a trip to guest lecture at a university, or even just a particularly grueling day at work, he would buy a chocolate mocha (for himself) and an oolong tea (for Sophia) before stopping by her shop to read, talk, have his cards read, or simply to enjoy the company of a friend.
His after-work visits were rarely long, though on the weekend or on days off, he could spend hours scrounging through the shelves for something he hadn't yet read, or discussing the merits of various authors and time periods with anyone else who happened to stop by. He never asked about her (most definitely) supernatural background, and she never asked about his, but whenever he stepped into her shop, it was understood that he had entered the protection of a force far greater than himself.
Authors Note: And an update on time for once in a blue moon. Thank you all for reading, especially LostOceanKit for leaving wonderful reviews on the last few chapters. Tell me what you think, what you'd like to see, and whether or not you think pumpkin spice flavorings are good. Until next week, farewell.